


Nine People on a Train

by Diary



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Agent Ned Stark, Awkwardness, Bechdel Test Pass, Bounty Hunter Brienne of Tarth, Bounty Hunters, Diabetes, Family, Female Protagonists, Friendship/Love, Late Night Conversations, Modern Westeros, Murder Mystery, Nurse Podrick Payne, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Past Jon Snow/Ygritte, Trains, Women Being Awesome, Work In Progress, Ygritte is Tormund Giantsbane's Daughter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: AU. On a train headed to Dorne, a murder is committed. WIP.





	Nine People on a Train

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Game of Thrones.

Ygritte Giantsbane has just finished making travel arrangements, and she is not happy.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Gilly offers. “Or maybe there’ll be a sofa.”

Ygritte scowls. “You know that isn’t what this is about. I paid for two beds, and so, we should get two beds.”

“They gave you a discount.”

“Still not the point.” Ygritte flops down on her hotel bed. “Just so you know, I always sleep on the side closest to the door.”

Gilly decides not answering is the safest course.

In Milkwater, Ygritte has a one-bedroom flat, and for over four months, she’s insisted Gilly take the bed and uncomplainingly made do on her sofa. The hotel they’re sleeping in now has two beds, and Ygritte had automatically claimed the one nearest to the door and has been sleeping on the right side despite the fact her bed at home has been arranged so she can sleep on the left side but still face the door. 

For all Ygritte does have patience for, Gilly’s guilt isn’t on the list.

Gilly usually tries, but in this instance, she can’t help it. Ygritte hates trains, but flying makes Gilly physically sick, and neither of them handle boat rides well. Now, even hiring a semi-private charter train isn’t going to make things much, if any better, because, aside from not having a room with two beds, Ygritte can’t get a passenger manifest for some reason the travel agency won’t give a straight answer on. 

“I know we both need to get back soon, but maybe, we could-”

“Tomorrow, we’re on that train, and if someone ends up dead, then, they end up dead. Simple as that.”

Chuckling, Gilly lies down. Death on a train is possible, but it’s one of the few things she’s sure they won’t have to deal with.

…

Brienne Tarth has been getting steadily agitated for over an hour, and Podrick Payne finally manually disconnects the hotel phone.

At her glare, he holds out her insulin testing kit and quietly notes, “You’re shaking.”

“I’m annoyed,” is her snappish response. Nevertheless, she does the test and reads out the numbers.

Tossing her an oatmeal bar, he checks on the sedated prisoner handcuffed to the bed. “He won’t need another dose until we’re ready to leave.”

“Good.” Sitting down, she unwraps the bar. “I have a bad feeling, Podrick.”

Coming over, he sits, too. “Bolton will face justice.”

“But we can’t know that. We’ll get him to Dorne, he’ll be tried, and hopefully, with his father dead, he’ll be properly sentenced. But Dorne doesn’t have the death penalty, and their prisons are one of the most humane in the Seven Kingdoms. Is that justice? Him getting three full meals a day? Snacks and TV and a well-stocked library? Exercise? Sadistic people he can bond with and unfortunate souls he can torture?”

He gives her a sympathetic look. “You don’t believe in the death penalty, and you believe more should aspire to Dorne’s standards of prison treatment.”

Reaching up, she rubs her scarred face. “It’s easier to not believe in the death penalty and prisoner rights when you don’t have to personally deal with certain people.”

“That’s true,” he agrees. “But soon enough, he’ll not be our problem.”

…

“Give it back,” Shireen Baratheon commands her cousin, Myrcella. “I’ll tell-”

Myrcella raises an eyebrow.

Usually, Shireen would tell her father or uncle, but only her mother is travelling with them.

Shireen huffs. “You aren’t being fair, Myrcella.”

“I’m not the one trying to wear mourning clothes when I’m not mourning.”

Shireen scowls. “We all wore mourning clothes to the funeral, and I do-”

“It’s polite to wear mourning clothes to a funeral. And I’m sad we lost a family member, too, but neither of us knew him. We both know why you’re really trying to wear your pillbox hat.”

“She’s your aunt, Myrcella,” Shireen quietly says. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Not when she’s trying to make you ashamed,” Myrcella answers. “If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t care what strangers on a train said or thought.”

This isn’t completely true, but Myrcella is mostly right.

When Shireen was a baby, she was accidentally exposed to greyscale. When she first started showing symptoms, a vaccine was immediately administered, and it saved her life, but there was nothing to be done about her deformed face.

How people react does sometimes bother her, but if not for her mother, she wouldn’t ever bother with trying to conceal her face.

“She’s delicate, you know that. What if- I’m scared, Myrcella, that she’ll have to go back. Please, just give it back.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and then, Myrcella unlocks her suitcase, takes the pillbox hat out, and hands it to Shireen.

“Thank you.”

…

Brienne and Pod arrive on-time, and spotting their contact, Pod tugs her sleeve.

Looking over, she raises her hand. “Agent Stark!”

Agent Eddard Stark comes over, and giving them a warm smile, he greets, “Miss Tarth. Mister Payne.” Then, looking down at the man strapped to a gurney with a portable IV in his arm, a dark expression overtakes his face. “What’s the medication and dosage?”

Pod types into his tablet before handing it over. “Mr Bronn gave us authorisation to-”

Brienne tries to subtly nudge Pod, and looking up, Ned shakes his head. Smiling wryly, he says, “It’s no secret Bronn will authorise almost anything when it comes to his best bounty hunter.” Nodding towards Brienne, he continues, “In Ramsay Bolton’s case, I don’t particularly care. Keep him alive, and most importantly, keep the passengers on this train safe. May I see all the medication, please?”

Taking out the box containing the phials and syringes, Pod enters the combination and places his right finger on the scanner.

A mechanical voice asks, “Reason for opening?”

“Inspection,” Pod answers.

“Authorised.” Clicking open, it continues, “Opened by Nurse Payne at 8:43 a.m., Saturday, June 7, 3219.”

Ned checks the medication against his list. “This looks to be all in order. Miss Tarth, I understand you’re diabetic? I normally wouldn’t ask, but unfortunately, I couldn’t get a manifest.”

“I couldn’t, either,” Brienne exclaims. “I spent over an hour talking to different people, and none of them would give me a straight answer.”

He gives her a sympathetic look of shared exasperation. “And that’s why I’m asking what’s done with your medication. With you connected to this case and us not knowing anything about who will be on the train with us-” He stops.

“Aside from my Tansy pills, I have some Paracetamol,” Brienne says with a gesture towards their luggage. “I don’t take insulin or any other medication.”

“I have some multivitamins and generic heartburn reliever,” Pod says.

“Thank you,” Ned says. “Well, then, the three of us will do our jobs, get him delivered, and gods willing, his time in prison will last until his death.”

“Seven willing,” Brienne agrees. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll get him locked down in the compartment before the others start arriving.”

…

Gilly is trying to open her sewing kit when she feels a body making contact with hers, and the kit opens on impact with the ground.

“Sorry,” voices chorus.

Kneeling down, she finds herself looking at a young girl with grayscale patches on her face and a slightly older blonde girl. Along with the contents of her kit is a Cyvasse board and pieces and several books.

“Sorry,” the younger girl repeats. “We weren’t looking where we were going.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t, either." Gilly spots a nearby hat with a veil attached. “Sorry for knocking this off.” She offers it to them.

“Oh, trust me, that’s a good thing,” the blonde girl says. Ignoring the glare she receives, she adds, “I’m Myrcella Baratheon, and this is Shireen. We’re cousins. Her mum really likes sewing, too.”

“I’m Gilly Craster,” she says. “Please, call me Gilly. Are you both okay?”

“As long as the books are okay, yeah,” Myrcella answers. Gesturing to the gathered up books, she says, “As you can see, my Shireen is a bookworm. Takes after our uncle, she does.”

Shireen finishes examining the boards and pieces. “They’re all okay. And Myrcella is a Cyvasse prodigy, not that she’ll admit it. Do you play Cyvasse?”

“No,” Gilly answers. “I’ve never been around the game.”

“If you want, Myrcella can teach you, and if you need a book to read, you’re welcome to look through mine,” Shireen says.

“Yeah, we’re in compartment 7.” Standing, Myrcella pulls Shireen up. “We’d better get there before we cause another accident. It was nice meeting you, Miss Gilly.”

Nodding, Shireen gives her a small wave.

…

Ned is getting a brew when he hears, “It’s just an idiotic dream some people have.”

Stiffening, he turns around, and seeing Ygritte and a brunette woman walking together, pain goes through him. “Ygritte?”

Jumping, she looks over, takes him in, and declares to her friend, “And this is why manifests are necessary and why that idiotic travel agency is lucky they’re just getting a bad review instead of a brick through their corporate office.”

He relaxes a bit, and when she looks back at him, he gives her a slight smile. “Hello, Ygritte. It seems no one got the manifest. We’d heard you’ve been stopping in Milkwater but not much else. How have you been?”

“Agent Stark. This is Gilly, and she has all her papers for legal immigration to Dorne in order. I have a conceal permit for all my weapons. You and Catelyn finally taking a vacation?”

“No, I have business in Dorne.” He offers his hand to Gilly. “Ma’am.”

She shakes it. “Please, call me Gilly.”

“How’s your family,” Ygritte asks.

He smiles. “Good. Jon’s joined the local Night Watch. He’d love to hear from you. Sansa’s living with a girlfriend. Other than that, not much has changed. Oh, Rickon did get his braces out, and Teddy, Robb’s youngest, is going to get them this summer.”

Smiling slightly, she nods. “I’m glad to hear it. Feel free to tell them all that I’m doing good. Well, by my definition at any rate.”

He laughs. “Of course. Wouldn’t expect anything else.”

…

After Gilly and Ygritte get their luggage settled in the room, an announcement the train will start in ten minutes comes on.

“Want to go to the control room,” Ygritte asks.

Trying to control her excitement, Gilly nods. “Yes, please.”

As they’re walking, they run into Agent Stark.

“You look so suspicious,” Ygritte says. “We’re just going to the control room. Much as I mistrust these automated trains, at least, that’s one good thing about them, no one telling ya where you can and can’t go.”

Surprise crosses his face. “I always thought you- Hm.”

Rolling her eyes, she says, “Jon thought the lives saved by eliminating driver error was greater than the risk of vehicles being hacked. Your Cat took the opposite stance. Of course, I was going to side with him, watch her get riled. Still, I prefer being in control or having another person in control that I can take it from, if necessary.”

“And on my side, one good thing about full automation is people like you can’t,” he comments.

She laughs. “Fair enough.”

He moves aside, and they start to walk past.

From a nearby room, a man and one of the tallest women Gilly’s ever seen come out. “Excuse us,” she says. “Agent Stark, Pod and I have-”

Suddenly, Ygritte lets out a sharp noise.

Jumping, Gilly looks over and sees Ygritte is in the doorway of the room the two just left.

“Ygritte-” Concern is clear on Agent Stark’s face and in his voice as he moves toward her. “Ygritte-”

Pushing past him, there’s nothing but a blur of her red hair before she’s completely out-of-sight.

Cautiously edging over, Gilly looks in the room.

Lying strapped to a bed is a sleeping man. He has short, brown hair and is wearing a prisoner jumpsuit with no shoes or socks. Attached to his arm is a portable IV.

 …

Pacing and occasionally touching the walls, Ygritte tries to take deep breaths.

She worships the old gods, and there aren’t really any set prayers for them. She went to sept services with Jon a few times, and fragmented prayers to the seven cross her mind.

Praying isn’t her first instinct, but she can’t kill Bolton, not with Agent Stark on-board, and the other options- No, that isn’t her, and she still has to help Gilly.

The privy door opens, and it occurs to her, she should leave and let whoever needs a toilet or the sink do their business in peace, but this just leads her to thinking of all the harm he could end up doing to others, and-

“Will you please tell me the street you grew up on, dear?”

“My da was a travelling salesman,” she absently answers.

The first thing she needs to do is stop pacing, she realises. Her lungs are starting to hurt, no, she needs to get them under control, first.

“What sort of places did you live in, then?”

Annoyance starts to creep in, and she glares at the stranger. “All over. We had a mobile home. Liked to find forests to camp in when the weather was good.”

“My husband’s friend likes to go camping, too. He tried to take our daughter, once, and that didn’t work out very well. Did your father home school you?”

Ygritte stares. “On and off.”

The other woman is older, on the thin side, dressed in a slightly old-fashioned dress, and has her brown hair up on her head.

“You’re calmer, now,” she notes. “Why don’t you sit down? Even if you’re normally athletic, such pacing and heavy breathing will have put a strain on your body.”

Seeing the sense in this, Ygritte does. Leaning against the wall, she looks up. “Thanks.”

Kneeling down beside her, the woman says, “I’m Selyse Baratheon.”

Offering her hand, she says, “Ygritte.” When Selyse shakes it, she asks, “Are you a nurse or summat?”

“No. I’ve always been religiously devout, but two years ago, I began fanatical. I suffered a psychotic break. I was in hospital for eight months.” She sits down fully. “Not all forms of insanity include non-observance. I saw how certain things could be mitigated. I wouldn’t be incorrect in assuming you aren’t prone to attacks of intense anxiety, would I?”

Ygritte shakes her head. “No. Until five years ago, never. Not an escaped patient, are ya?”

“No,” Selyse answers. “I was relatively lucky. My daughter was infected with greyscale when she was a baby, but I’m afraid most people think I’m responsible for hurting her. I didn’t hurt anyone, however. I take medication, and I participate in cognitive therapy.”

She sighs. “I took my daughter and niece for a funeral earlier this week. It’s the first time I’ve had any amount of significant time alone with her, and I know, if not for Myrcella, her cousin, coming along, too, I wouldn’t have even gotten this.”

“I’m sorry,” Ygritte tells her.

Selyse pats her hand. “Are you feeling up to standing? I’ll walk you to the kitchens. Some tea or juice will help get your body back in order.”

…

Finishing her prayer, Brienne slips out of the sept.

For the moment, her voicemail and emails remain empty, but gods knows how a certain someone is going to react when he finds out she took this assignment. She’s half-tempted to have Pod screen her phone until they deposit Ramsay, but Pod already knows too much about her not-quite love life as it is.

Suddenly, she finds herself being stared at, and she’s used to this, but taking in the face of the little girl staring, she suddenly realises exactly how different this situation is.

Smiling a bit, she kneels down and notices another girl is looking cautiously between with them with her hand on the younger girl’s shoulder. “A bear attacked me,” she says with a gesture to her face. “

A combination of interest and scepticism fill the eyes of both girls.

“Really,” the younger asks in wonder.

“Really,” she confirms. “I’m a bounty hunter, and while most of my cases are fairly routine, there have been a few that were anything but. One of them put in me in contact with a wild bear. I swear it by the seven.”

“I’m Myrcella,” the older girl says. “This is Shireen. Would you like to have lunch with us?”

Touching her own scarred face, Shireen shyly nods. “Or would you like to meet up later? I have books, and Myrcella has a Cyvasse set.”

 “If it’s alright with your parents, I’d be happy to have lunch with you,” Brienne answers.

“Her mum, my aunt. We’re cousins,” Shireen tells her. “You could come talk to her with us?”

Brienne nods. “That sounds good.”

…

Soon, word of Ramsay Bolton is out to all the passengers, and everyone assembles in the dining room for lunch.

“Surely, even unconscious, this young man needs to relieve himself,” Selyse says.

Typing in the numbers of Brienne’s insulin test, Pod answers, “He’s been fitted with a catheter and colostomy bag, Mrs Baratheon. During the day, I check them every hour and do the necessary cleaning and changing when necessary.”

“Do you take insulin before or after you eat, Miss Brienne,” Shireen asks.

“I don’t. I’m able to control it with diet and exercise.”

Gilly and Ned both look at Ygritte’s largely untouched plate with concern, but before Gilly can speak, Ned does, “Ygritte, all the bad Bolton’s done, it doesn’t give you the right to play judge, jury, and- If you do, I’ll be compelled to act.”

Making a rude sound, Ygritte rolls her eyes. “I have a promise to keep, Stark. If he wakes up, he’ll try something, and damn if I won’t do something in turn. Otherwise, though, getting Gilly settled in Dorne is my top priority.”

Smiling, Gilly squeezes her arm.

“I wish we’d known,” Selyse says. “We got the manifest, of course, but my husband and I didn’t know anything about who Ramsay Bolton was. We just assumed he was a regular passenger.”

“You got a manifest? How,” Ygritte demands. “I spent forever trying to get a straight answer on why I couldn’t get one. That and the lack of two beds-” She takes a violent sip of her brew.

Pod and Brienne exchange a look.

“Our Shireen got it online,” Selyse answers.

At Shireen’s rapidly paling face and twitchy eyes dancing over everyone, Myrcella proudly adds, “She’s great with computers. At school, it’s required to take a computer class, but she tested out. Of course, she was lucky, the whole website started having issues the day after she printed out the manifest for her mum and dad.”

“Excuse me,” Brienne says to Ygritte. “If you’d like, Podrick and I could switch rooms with you and Gilly. We’ve had to share beds and sleeping bags a number of times on cases that we’re used to it, and Bolton’s cot would fit in the room with us.”

Gilly studies them both. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“No, ma’am,” Pod answers. “It’s as Brienne said. Bronn, her boss, is so cheap, we usually end up in one-bed hotel rooms, and even when we can get two, usually, we have a transport, and they get one bed while we take the other.”

“Yes, and while our room is bigger, your bed is bigger than our two combined. I’d do better on a larger bed,” Brienne adds.

“Were you on a camping trip when you came across the bear,” Shireen asks.

“Good with you,” Ygritte asks Gilly. At Gilly’s nod, Ygritte says, “Thank you. I’d appreciate us trading.”

Brienne nods, and then, answers, Shireen, “No. The bear attack is the reason why Pod and I met, actually. After it happened…”

…

After the rooms are switched, everything continues throughout the day.

At 9:53, Brienne gets a phone call, and Pod goes to check on Bolton.

When he gets to the room, he immediately slips his hand into his pocket for his panic button, but before he can push it, he realises, aside from Bolton’s eyes being open, there’s absolutely no movement. Swallowing hard, he moves closer and puts shaking fingers on Bolton’s neck.

Bolton has been dead for two hours, at least.

Running he out, he starts calling for Brienne and groans when he runs into someone.

“Is everything alright, lad,” Ned Stark’s concerned voice asks. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Agent Stark! It’s Bolton,” he breathes out.

Immediately, Stark is reaching for his gun and scanning the area. “Has he escaped?”

“No, sir. He’s dead. He’s been dead for over two hours, I just found him. Checked on him, I mean, he’s still restrained.”        


End file.
